Page 39 of The Bonventi Rise
"Come, let me walk you out. You're no use to me burning the midnight oil. I need you fresh."
She looks back at her screen and then closes her laptop. "Fine."
She grabs her coat. "You know, maybe we should capitalize on this momentum," she says. "I'm thinking we schedule some more public appearances, really lean into the protective boyfriend angle?—"
"Fiancé," I correct her without thinking.
She looks up, and our eyes lock. The air between us feels charged, heavy with things we both aren't saying to one another.
"Right," she says softly. "Fiancé."
She takes my hand, and I guide her toward the door, but when I place my hand on the handle to turn it, I can't.
Instead, I turn to look at her with desire-filled eyes, and she bites her lip.
I don't think I'm ready to leave just yet.
22
ALINA
Marco reaches for the door and stops. He turns to me and gives me a look that instantly sends electricity through my body.
"Are we?—?"
Before I can finish, he's on me. His lips are like fire against mine. This kiss feels different. It's not a gentle, fake-for-the-cameras kiss; it's raw, hungry, an I'm-going-to-devour-you kind of kiss.
And holy shit, do I like it.
My body responds, showing my need for his control, and before I know it, I've dropped my bag and have my arms wrapped around him, pulling him closer. We fumble backward, and he pins me against my desk. Papers and folders crash onto the floor.
We're breathing heavily now. He pulls my hair back, and his lips trail fire down my neck. I arch into him, desperately wanting more. His hands roam my body, leaving tingles in their wake. I'm lost in a haze of desire, my mind clouded with lust. But then, suddenly, he pulls back.
"Alina," he growls. "Tell me you want this. That you want me to continue."
I blink, trying to clear the fog from my mind. His question catches me off guard, and I hesitate. Part of me wants to scream 'yes,' to pull him back to me and lose myself in his touch. But another part—the part that knows my feelings for this man aren't fake anymore—makes me pause.
"I..." I start. "I don't want to be a pawn, Marco. I don't want to be used."
I watch his face, searching for any sign of disappointment or frustration. Instead, I see something else entirely.
Marco cups my face in his hands, his thumbs gently stroking my lips.
"Alina," he says softly. "You're not a pawn. You're everything to me."
Could he really mean that? The man who holds all the power, who could have anyone he wants, really chose me?
I feel my breath catch in my throat. "What?"
"You heard me," he says. "You're not just some piece in a game. You're brilliant, you're fierce, you're my Firefly."
I search his eyes, looking for any hint of deception, but all I see is sincerity.
"But this arrangement," I start, gesturing vaguely between us, "it's just business, isn't it?"
Marco nods his head. "Maybe it started that way, but," he says, leaning in close to my ear, "can't you feel this? This connection between us?"
I can. God help me, I can. It's been there from the start, simmering beneath the surface of our every interaction. I've tried to ignore it, to push it aside and focus on the campaign, on our goals. But now, with Marco looking at me like this, I can't deny it anymore.
